


Touch starvation

by Prawnperson



Series: Alternate universes [7]
Category: Don’t Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Contemplation, Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Kisses, Post constant au, Reunions, Suggestive Themes, gentle touching, touch starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-09-30 17:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20450819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prawnperson/pseuds/Prawnperson
Summary: Walani goes away for a few days to surf.





	1. Chapter 1

It is so cold. So cold, and empty, and...dull. The things they do are obsessive. Counting every fork in the drawer, every railing on the banister, every button on all of her shirts. They are trying very hard to keep up the facade of being alright to nobody but Cowabunga, but the truth is, they haven’t been alone like this since the fire. They haven’t had to listen to themselves like this for quite some time.

The noise of the other survivors was usually idiotic nonsense, but it was always there. As much as they loathed the company they were keeping-or, at least, claimed to loathe-there was always the sound to distract them. Their mind is, of course, robotic. It counts everything, labels everything, does all that it can with an exact, calculated precision. There is no room for error. There was no room for freedom.

Until, of course, they met her, and all the thoughts from before the fire came back in full force. All the thoughts of colour and light and wonder from whenever they still acted like a child, because they had no reason not to. Before the rolling flames came and turned curious awe into bitter chill.

Their mind is so free when they’re with her. It’s so easy to ignore the calculations in favour of doing something incredibly stupid, and pointless, and fun.

The bed feels cold without her. She hasn’t been gone that long. They’re being stupid, they know. 

They phone Wilson asking how to make malsada, because it’s something they feel they would be able to do well, if only they had a proper set of instructions. They don’t realise it’s three o’clock in the morning until he hisses it down the phone, sleep just barely fogging over the anger in his voice. They put the phone down when Wilson hangs up. They don’t know anyone else’s number.

The telephone calls are good. She tells them what she’s doing, how nice it is, how warm, how good the waves are. They can’t help but be happy for her. They know that, if they had no romantic attachments to her, they would find it in themselves to be petty and snippy. Then again, if they had no romantic attachments to her, they wouldn’t miss her at all.

They muster up the courage to say that they miss her. She says so back. She promises that she will be back so soon, and they tell her they know. They do. It’s just difficult to have the supposed luxury of free time when there’s nobody there to suggest doing something they know will go horribly wrong.

Whenever Walani returns, she is almost crushed. WX-78 gives her a hug that is painfully tight, slightly bent to bury their face in her collar and shut their eyes tight, revelling in her warmth and her scent and the mere feel of her in their arms.

“You really miss me all that much?”

She asks, breathless as she is with their arms wrapped suffocatingly tight about her. WX-78 finally loosens their hold on her, and nods, the haze of numbers and binary and predictions of future actions seemingly melting into nothing.

“I’VE MADE SO MUCH MALSADA.”

They say. Walani pulls back slightly to see their face, and can’t make out joy from embarrassment.

“How much?”

“HOW MUCH IS FIVE BAGS OF SUGAR’S WORTH?”

She laughs loud, in such a way that WX-78 can feel the vibrations of her chest against their chassis. They’ve missed that sound, a lot. It’s soft. Calming. It makes their mind numb to the harsh practicalities they conjure up in the silence of solidarity.

———

Walani is sensitive.

She isn’t overly emotional, that’s not it. She’s hardy, all things considered. No, not sensitive in the physiologic sense, but rather, in the physical.

They’ve been free from the constant for little over two months now, and yet, still, the hunger lingers within her. The want, no, the need to have contact. To make up for the year-and-a-bit without any touch other than the brush of leaves or the scrape of hound’s teeth. She isn’t sure if it was simply the experiences from within the constant, but something about it made her feel hollow. Cold.

She likes surfing, no question, and she has no regrets about going away to do just that, but she’s missed her partner so awfully, and so, whenever she returns, she’s nothing short of starved. Starved of any kind of touch. She’s grown used to it, slightly cold, metallic hands that press against the small of her back and wind in her hair and run along her bottom lip with careful precision.

She finds herself sitting in WX’s lap, on their couch, her chest pressed against theirs as their hands move from her hips to her neck to her back. She lets out sounds of appreciation, head tilted back to let them kiss her neck. Her skin is overly sensitive, she finds it almost painful to be touched so intimately and tenderly for no reason other than to feel, but she needs it. 

“Touch me...”

She whispers, and WX merely rubs at her back, down the length of her spin, gentle around the spot where she always aches at the end of the day.

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING.”

———

They both suppose that their time in the constant left them adversed to spending time apart. It’s understandable.

“I think you have a cuddles metre.”

Walani quips. She has her fingers splayed across their chest as she lies next to them, only have covered by the bed sheets and still impossibly warm.

“IT’S POSSIBLE. ELABORATE.”

“Well, when I met you, you thought that touch was super gross, and then, whenever we started hugging an’ stuff, you acted less like a bear with a sore head.”

They make an offended noise at that last remark, but there’s no real snark behind it. 

“You need them to stay functional.”

They don’t reply. They simply run their fingers along her jaw, laugh as she yawns and stretches out like a cat in a sun spot.

The bed is warm again, as is the feeling in both of their chests.


	2. Chapter 2

She feels...like her skin isn’t right. It’s bad when it gets like this, so bad it wakes her up. So bad it makes her feel like there’s a layer of sandpaper between her outer body and her insides. 

“Wexford...”

She whispers, gently shaking them awake. They blink their eyes open one at a time, robotic even in the sleepy motions. Walani doesn’t like waking them up, doesn’t like being a bother, but when it gets like this, it’s so difficult to stop it.

They go to say something, but she can tell by the stretch of silence that they’ve worked it out without her having to tell them, thankfully. She feels dirty, like there’s some invisible layer of grime she’ll never get rid of no matter how many times she bathes. Her body is still littered with scars from the Constant, and when her mind gets this worked up, the scars seem as bad as filth she can’t scrub away.

Calmly, carefully, WX sits her up against the headboard, arranging pillows behind her head so her back isn’t digging against metal bars. She hears the bed creak in the dark, followed by a thud and a loud “OW!” That almost makes her laugh. The creaking of footsteps moves to the hall, down the stairs, and out of earshot, before they retrace and come back to her. 

“DRINK.”

WX instructs. They turn on the light and reveal the disgusted look on their face as they hold out a glass of water to Walani. She takes it, sips at it, and WX moves so that they’re rubbing her back gently.

“CAREFUL.”

They hope that they’re being helpful. They know how difficult it is for Walani to get them out of their own head whenever a mood like this comes on, and they’re both endlessly thankful and concerned that it never seems to take her half as long to at least talk to them. She’s allowed to be angry. Allowed to be upset. They remind her so, but always worry it’s never getting through.

Walani places the now empty glass on the bedside table, and simply sits for a minute, before announcing that she really has to pee. WX laughs, removes their hand from her back so she can leave for the bathroom, and ponders. They go over to the wardrobe and search. They hope that this is the right thing to do. 

Whenever Walani returns, she doesn’t actually notice the outfit laid out at the dresser. She simply flops back down next to WX and sighs, the pangs of agonising panic finally reordering themselves into the far more preferable but still uncomfortable pain of back ache. Well, at least that’s easier to deal with than the urge to pick her own skin off for fear of waking up back in that wretched place, crying for the warmth of the light.

WX spreads their fingertips between her shoulder blades and presses, Walani groaning out in half pleasure and half discomfort.

“Aren’t you tired?”

She drawls, cheek pressed into the mattress. WX doesn’t respond beyond a shake of their head she can just catch out of the corner of her eye, and continues pressing and pushing against her back.

“I WAS THINKING WE GO OUT TOMORROW.”

Walani makes a questioning noise. They don’t usually propose leaving the house, unless it’s to go to a museum, or a bee hive removal. 

“Where?”

“SOMEWHERE NICE. THE CINEMA, MAYBE. SOMEWHERE THAT GETS YOU OUT OF YOUR HEAD.”

She yawns and nods. The buzzing is still present at the back of her head, but she knows it would be an unbearable stabbing pain if she were left on her own. The touch relieves the symptoms, the conversation cures the cause.

“I LAID YOU OUT CLOTHES. YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO THINK ABOUT THAT.”

She feels like she could cry. She’s tired, she knows, overly tired, but she still feels her eyes brim with tears. They’re so nice to her. Only to her. They’re a bastard to everyone else, quite frankly. She often wonders what it is about her that made them act like...like this.

“DO YOU FEEL BETTER NOW?”

The question is punctuated with a small, electrified kiss between her shoulder blades, the spark in no way surprising but instead almost tiring, like blissfully tingly sleeping draughts. She can only mumble a soft “yes”, for fear of the lump in her throat turning her words shivery.

“GOOD. LET’S TRY GET YOU BACK TO SLEEP.”

She rolls onto her back again, pulling WX against her bare stomach with arms around their neck. Her legs hitch around their waist, and she clings, clings so tight it would certainly bruise a human.

“HEY, WOAH, DON’T TENSE UP LIKE THAT. I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE.”

They move her until she starts to relax her muscles again, but she only brings her body closer for compensation of the lessened grip.

“Promise?”

“PROMISE.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snuggles!!!

The Europha is a nice place. The polar opposite to the entirety of the constant. It’s warm, and well lit, clean to the point that even WX-78’s persnickety optical sensors can find no dirt or dust around the place.

They’re both drinking warm tea, hands joined across the table. This place is frequented by Willow and Wilson, too, which can occasionally lead to some awkward situations with the two couples sitting within viewing distance of each other, too embarrassed to display any affection in front of people they know. Thankfully, the restaurant is mostly free of people, including the scientist and his pyromaniac girlfriend.

“We should get scones.”

Walani suggests. She’s grown to like them, she has to admit. It’s a good job, too, seeing as how it seems to be one of the few things almost every British cafe serves.

Walani finds it funny how they’ve already agreed to not have jam, despite the fact they’ve neither shared a look nor talked about it. It’s an unspoken thing, she supposed. They don’t eat foods they had far too much of in the Constant, mainly for fear of it bringing up the intolerable feeling of itching all over their bodies.

It seems that WX is no longer satisfied with simply holding hands, because they lean the short distance across the table to cup Walani’s jaw and kiss her, eyes preemptively shut as their chest flutters at the feeling.

———

She’s practically boneless beside them, fingers curled delicately above her head as she breathes in, then out, then in again, WX tracking the movement of her body as though their life depends on it. Their systems are still releasing little spurs of pleasure, even as they lie, exhausted, next to an equally spent Walani.

Walani’s eyes flutter fully shut, lips still parted as her breaths come out shallow, even though she’s slowly but surely calming. WX curls their arms around her waist, clinging onto her like a limpet.

“GOOD GRIEF...”

They finally mumble, and Walani laughs gently, already half asleep. She exhales through her nose, pressing their foreheads together.

“I love you.”

She whispers. Her voice is so, so quiet. WX feels like they could drown in it.

“SAY, CAN I...UH, CAN I ASK YOU SOMETHING?”

Walani nods sleepily against them, and they clear their throat. 

“YOU DON’T, UHM...YOU DIDN’T HEAR WHAT I WAS SAYING A WHILE BACK THEN, DID YOU?”

“I certainly did hear, you great sap.”

The little quirk of a smile she gives doesn’t escape them.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I thought it was sweet.”

They nod their head as the weight of the entire day seems to fall on their eyelids at that very moment.

“I LOVE YOU TOO, YOU SILLY LITTLE WOMAN.”

“Ah, I’m your silly little woman, but.”

She half-yawns. WX giggles, the sound thrumming low in their chest, and they fall asleep. Intertwined, warm, and blissful.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapshots of their past, their present, and a very brief pondering about their future.

Oh, how she does love flowers.

She loves to be surrounded by them. Pools of colour that sit in the centre of her vision and make her chest flutter with happiness. She doesn’t know why, she just loves them. Always has, ever since she was very, very small.

———

“I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT FLOWERS YOU LIKED-NOT THAT I CARE-SO I GOT YOU ALL OF THEM.”

The note is written in square shaped capitals, blocky handwriting that could only belong to WX. The bunch of flowers is tied up simply with a piece of thin rope. Left outside the tent with no real explanation as to why. 

The flowers don’t match in colour. There’s at least one of each kind Walani has seen in this place, and even a few she hasn’t, with richer, deeper colours. She inhales it deeply, and finds that, unlike most of the flowers, the bouquet smells sweet and pleasant, like how flowers should.

———

The flowers and plants in the real world are way more varied. Soft pinks, beautiful ruby reds, delicate greens that climb up their canes in small tendrils, dusky oranges. She loves them all. Loves the tiny sprays of white the gypsophila blossoms add to the garden, loves the way the sprouting tulips smell after it’s just rained, heady and fresh.

She decides she’s had enough gardening for one day. Their front lawn is immaculate. She doesn’t like work, not really, but she doesn’t actually have to do this in order to live to see the next day. No, this was different to planting seeds or picking flowers for sanity or trimming hedges for oincs. She chose to do this for no other reason than her own pleasure, and the satisfaction of a nice looking garden.

“Tea ready?”

She calls. She slams the front door closed with her foot and unties the little apron around her waist, leaving the secateurs in the pocket for the next time.

“NOT EVEN STARTED.”

WX-78 replies, almost sleepily. They’re covered in sticky honey, and they still have gloves on, evidence of their own previous activities. 

“YOU HUM VERY LOUDLY.”

She knew they were listening. Had a funny feeling about it.

“I know.”

“I LIKE IT.”

She flushes ever so slightly at the affection. She likes it even more than flowers, even if the two sometimes go hand and hand. Even if one can be used to express the other.

“Let’s just eat cake for dinner.”

She doesn’t mean it seriously of course, but WX, bless them, still hasn’t gotten the hang of working out what’s sarcasm and what isn’t, as cynical as they are themselves.

“YOU’LL GET TUMMY ROT.”

“Mhm.”

Without any hesitation, she moves to straddle them, sitting on their stomach and taking their wrist in her hand. They look at her with wide eyes as she brings their hand up to her lips and kisses honey off the heel of their palm, eyes just betraying her enjoyment of their predicament.

“STOP IT.”

They grind out, even though they clearly don’t mean it. Walani grins against their hand and they can feel the movement of her soft lips on their metal. Their mechanisms jump with a loud pop, they don’t know wether to love or hate the smug look she gives.

———

Flowers wilt. They perish easily. Fade into dried, grey flakes of nothingness that droop and mess up their lawn.

WX-78 doesn’t know why she puts so much time into things that will eventually die their deaths with very little warning. She will be powerless to stop their demise, no matter how much she loves them and needs them, wants desperately to keep them for her own selfish desires.

Hypocritical of them, isn’t it?


	5. Chapter 5

WX-78 gets a grand total of three shovel talks.

The first one is from Warly. It is while they are still within the constant, a few months after they begin sharing a tent with Walani.

———

“I trust you, mon amie. You know this, yes?”

It’s an odd way to start a conversation, WX doesn’t quite know where it’s going to go.

“ALRIGHT...”

“You may be a hateful metal person with homicidal tendencies, but I trust you.”

WX-78 rolls their eyes and goes back to watching the bubbling crockpot between them. They want Walani to come back. She’s going to bring back food from the hunt. They like her after the hunt, hair all messy and shirt all messed up and-

“That isn’t to say I will always trust you, though.”

They’ve heard of something like this. They’re pretty sure Warly’s having a stroke.

“DOES THIS CONVERSATION HAVE A POINT?”

“I love Walani, very much, but she is not incredibly smart. She didn’t realise the Sealnado was coming until it knocked her off her hammock. Do you understand?”

“...NO?”

He sighs as if he’s tired, maybe he is, and rubs his temples.

“All I’m saying is...be nice to her. Be gentle. Don’t lose your temper with her, alright? She deserves so much better than that.”

WX shrugs their shoulders. This seems like a very random thing to bring up right now, with no prior promoting, it seems.

“WHAT DOES IT MATTER?”

He scowls then, and WX doesn’t like it. There’s no joking in his expression. None of the usual indecisiveness. 

“It matters in the sense that, if you hurt her in any way, you won’t live to see your next hot meal, alright?”

It’s only then that they realise how often Warly uses knives.

“...ALRIGHT.”

———

Walani’s older brother is nothing short of terrifying.

He’s tall, well built, and incredibly protective. WX-78 is rather glad they and Walani managed to establish their relationship without him there in the picture.

He makes no attempt to hide the fact he’s going to give WX a stern talk, just takes them to the kitchen table and sits them down whilst Walani is occupied listening to the radio in the living room.

“If you’re cruel to my sister, I will break your kneecaps.”

The fact that they don’t have kneecaps seems very insignificant as Maleko casts a shadow over them, even in the dining room seat.

“UNDERSTOOD.”

“I mean it. I see one mark on her, and you’re a dead robot. Even if you make her cry. It will not end pretty for you.”

“I HAVE NO INTENTIONS OF HURTING HER.”

He still seems unsure, but his fists do unclench, and that’s a good sign for sure.

“Good. Don’t even think about it.”

“I NEVER WOULD.”

He sits up then and leaves the dining room, WX-78 letting their shoulders relax with a loud sigh.

———

Woodlegs’ is the simplest.

It’s less of a shovel talk and more of a shovel action. He looks to Walani, then to WX, and promptly drags his thumb along his neck to mime a knife to a throat. He makes a hissing noise through his teeth as he does it. WX gulps and nods.

———

“You’re all tensed up, babe.”

Walani giggles, pressing kiss after kiss to WX’s neck. The squirm and fidget, hands fisting the fabric of the sofa lest they grip her waist and leave a bruise and end up without any knees.

“I HAVE HAD SOME VERY SCARY CONVERSATIONS RECENTLY.”

“Scary?”

WX-78 shakes their head and tentatively places their hands on her hips.

“YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW, TRUST ME.”


	6. Chapter 6

“GIVE IT BACK!”

“I just want to look!”

Walani elbows WX sharply in the chest, knowing full well its enough to shove them off without actually hurting them. Metal and all. 

“WALANI!”

She ducks underneath their arm, flopping back onto the sofa and planting her foot on their stomach, pushing them away and holding the book above her head, fumbling to open it.

“If it’s just a beekeeping journal, you’ll have nothing to be embarrassed about!”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT, GIVE IT BACK!”

There’s an edge of pleading in their voice, tone turning from irritated to desperate.

“What even is it that’s so bad? Is it smut?”

“NO!”

Walani sticks her tongue out dramatically, before finally opening the book to the bookmarked page. WX-78 grabs her ankle, attempts to pull her off the couch, but she manages to squirm her way onto her stomach.

Her eyes widen rather comically as her eyes scan over the pages in front of her. The one on the left is full of the small, square handwriting, very recognisably WX, but that’s not what she’s focusing on. No, it’s the page to the right that has her full attention. Her full, flustered attention. In the dead centre of the page is a perfectly symmetrical heart, drawn in thick, cherry red pencil. There are two words written in the sketched heart that make her own beat fast and hard:

‘WEXFORD WAILIKI’ 

She lies still for a few agonisingly long moments, before WX-78 tightens the grip on her leg.

“GIVE THAT BACK TO ME. NOW.”

Walani hands the book back to them without hesitation, only moving to tense her shoulders up and wince whenever she hears the living room door slam behind her.

———

Walani chews on her bottom lip, leaning heavily against the bedroom door. She can hear the noises of WX’s systems, even if they’re pretending they aren’t there.

“Please don’t be mad at me...”

“WHY WOULD I BE MAD AT YOU?”

They snap, rather sarcastically, through the door. There’s a thump, what she assumes is them also leaning against the door, followed by a loud huff.

“Look, I thought we were just playin’. I didn’t know it would genuinely upset you.”

“I AM NOT UPSET!”

She scrunches her nose up slightly at their shout, before they lower their voice and repeat, quieter.

“I AM NOT UPSET...I AM PERHAPS...”

They trail off near the end. Walani sighs, low and heavy.

“EMBARRASSED.”

“Really?”

It’s not like them, she knows. Not at all like them to actually admire they’re feeling any emotion beyond anger or pride. Walani combs her hand through her hair, sitting up whenever she hears the sudden click of the door’s lock.

“YOU CAN COME BACK IN, IF YOU WANT TO.”

———

“Why would you take my last name?”

“I DO NOT WANT TO DISCUSS THIS, FLESHLING.”

Walani giggles, can’t help it, even though she can feel their awkward squirming next to her.

“You know, that’s what the girl does, in this book. Writes about her lover and their tender encounters.”

She holds out the novel in her hands, but WX-78 doesn’t bother opening their eyes to look at it.

“Maybe you could do the same...”


	7. Chapter 7

Walani feels like she could fall asleep in the middle of the road, eyelids heavy and steps slow as she trudges home. Her surfboard keeps slipping out of her grasp, and she has to shirk it back under her arm again. Her damp hair is pressed against the back of her neck and her forehead. The heavy rain is soaking her, and to top it all off, she’s getting a bad case of wind burn from the nasty gale, all over her face and exposed limbs.

Whenever she finally reaches the front door, she weakly pushes it open, immediately slamming it behind her and collapsing in the chair next to the telephone table. She lets the surfboard fall wherever it lands, pressing her fingertips to her temples and sighing lowly.

“WHAT ON EARTH HAVE YOU DONE?”

WX-78 clinks their way out of the living room door, an alarmed noise rising from them as they take in the sight of Walani, soaked to the bone and covered in countless bruises and cuts. She looks up at them, hunched over in the plush chair, practically on the verge of tears.

“I had a very, very bad day.”

The robot makes a metallic cooing noise, crouching down beside her, trying their best to be of some comfort without touching her, sodden as she currently is.

“YOU POOR THING.”

They pet the toe of her pump upon finding it to be the driest part of her. Walani rolls her shoulders back, watching as WX-78 gets up and offers her a hand. She dries her hand off rather carelessly on the hem of her culottes before taking theirs and lacing their fingers together.

“I wiped out a bunch of times. I thought for sure it was going to be an A-frame, but I wanged it.”

WX-78 begins to lead her up the stairs, nodding understandingly despite the fact they understand very little of what she’s saying.

“I scratched up my board, and myself. There was such bad aggro on the water. I even had to bail on one of the waves! I never bail, Wex!”

She continues her rambling even as they enter the bedroom. She instinctively puts her hands on WX’s waist to allow them to unbutton her blouse.

“I got licked a bunch of times. I looked like such a barney. You want to know the worst part?”

“WHAT’S THE WORST PART?”

“I was so amped to go out today! I was so sure the waves were gonna be all ‘gnar, y’know?”

WX-78 hums. They let her shrug her shirt off, whilst they go to unbutton her waistband. 

“I mean, what if I’ve lost the knack? What if I’ve just lost the touch?”

She kicks her culottes off to pool at her ankles before stepping out of them. WX-78 goes behind her to the hot press, however, not without letting their fingertips ghost over the small of her back.

“I’M SURE YOU HAVE NOT. BESIDES, IT IS A HORRID DAY TODAY. THAT PROBABLY MADE THE WAVES LESS...’GNAR’, WAS IT?”

She laughs a little at that, WX-78 bringing down a small stack of warm, fluffy towels, as well as taking her dressing gown down off the peg.

“NOW, YOU GET THE REST OF THAT OFF AND I’LL TURN ON THE BOILER.”

———

Slowly and calmly, Walani sinks further below the warm water. Her jaw just brushes the surface of the thick layer of white bubbles. She sighs out, utterly blissful, soap and heat melting away her stress, like wax from a candle. Speaking of which, there are several of them dotted around the bathroom. They all smell of sweet flowers, roses and peony and lavender, heady scents that make her feel like she could lie here forever.

“You sure the steam doesn’t hurt?”

“EVERY TIME WE DO THIS YOU ASK THAT, AND EVERY TIME I TELL YOU NO.”

WX-78 is sitting in a large wicker chair at the opposite end of the bathroom. There’s a book balanced in their lap, one they’ve long since stopped even pretending to read in favour of watching Walani in her current state, shut eyed and peaceful.

“IT SMELLS SO GOOD...”

Walani groans in agreement and slides even further into the water.

———

“NICE AND DRY, THAT’S MUCH BETTER.”

Walani is still wrapped up in a warm towel, despite being dry all over now. WX-78 is still brushing her hair, moving with surprising care through the strands. They seem satisfied with their work, running a hand through the mostly dry locks, placing the brush down onto their bedside table.

“NOW, DO YOU NEED ANY PLASTERS? PAINKILLERS?”

Walani shakes her head, only shedding the towel whenever WX prompts her to do so.

“They’re all pretty small. Some of the bruises are kind tender.”

“I’LL GET SOME BALM FOR THEM, YES?”

Walani uses the time it takes them to get the little glass pot of rose balm to drape her dressing gown over her shoulders, still open to expose all her bruises, just there to keep the chill of British late autumn off.WX-78 moves back onto the bed, and scoops a generous amount of the rose scented paste with their middle and index finger, massaging it into the bruises on her thighs in small circles. 

“DO YOU FEEL ANY BETTER ABOUT EARLIER ON?”

WX-78 asks, not taking their eyes off their task.

“Mhmm, yeah.”

She leans back against the bedsheets, velvety softness soothing her even further towards the edges of tiredness.

“GOOD.”

The touch is slow and calming. They replenish the balm on their fingers and begin massaging it into her forearm, and then, they lay their whole palm out flat for her stomach, the motion predictably making her laugh. They continue this for some time, until WX-78 has not only blamed but also rubbed the entire length of her back, leaving her hazy and boneless on the mattress. She feels as though she could sleep for a hundred years.

“YOU’RE DOING THAT THING.”

WX-78 laughs, a sound that rattles hollowly through their chest, yet still makes Walani feel warm and safe.

“What thing?”

“WHEN YOU GET SLEEPY, YOU NUZZLE INTO THE BED SHEETS. IT’S CUTE.”

She turns around so that they’re face to face, and, as if on cue, WX-78 leans down. They kiss, slow and passionate and gentle, all at the same time. 

“You know what else is cute?”

She whispers, pulling away from them with a gentle push against their jaw. She smiles invitingly, WX-78 burying their face in the crook of her neck.

“DON’T PUSH IT.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, for a fic about an “uncompromising survival game”, I sure do write a lot of them taking nice baths and cuddling.


	8. Chapter 8

She did not get a choice in any of this.

There were certain qualities she always knew she wanted in a significant other. A kind heart, compassion, empathy, a love of the water. She was certain in that. Certain she wouldn’t be foolish enough to fall for someone who didn’t have all of those things and more.

WX-78 was none of these things.

They were crass and stubborn, quick to sulk and sniping. They viewed the emotions of their human ‘inferiors’ as something funny, a mere chemical reaction of utter insignificance inside tiny, mushy brains. In summary, they had no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

Walani considers herself lucky to be the only one who knows what a brazen lie that all is.

One of the first time she saw it was whenever they first became friends. WX-78 regarded her as someone close to an equal, rather than a mere bump in the road on the way to total mechanical domination. They had given her a small jar of honey-thrown it rather unceremoniously into her lap-and left to go out hunting. It only really occurred to her afterwards why they did it. 

An offhanded comment she had made about missing sweeties.

It stands out now as one of the more significant ways they showed affections. There are too many now for her to remember every single one of them. Every wound they packed in the Constant, every morsel they scrounged for her during bitter winters, every spider they managed to block off long enough for her to run back to camp with barely enough energy left to speak. None of those things ever really stopped once they escaped. Just changed.

The daring rescues became cups of tea, overly sugared and full of milk, just the way she liked it. Never set out for her too early, yet always before she would get up too late and miss the best waves. The clumsily woven hats whenever colder seasons rolled around turned to little wrapped tissue paper parcels, generally containing some gorgeous item of clothing, elegant and tasteful. Things shifted and warped, yet somehow, underneath it all, stayed the same as whenever they first met, and Walani felt as though she could drown in it.

They do maths because she doesn’t like to. They get her painkillers whenever her cramps get so bad she wants to die. They rub balm into her scars. They comfort her after her nightmares. Things she never would have considered wanting or needing in a romantic relationship.

“YOU OK, BUTTON?”

WX’s mechanical voice snaps Walani out of her spiral of thoughts. She blinks her eyes rather rapidly, and realises she’s been standing in front of the cutting board for a good few minutes, knife hovering uselessly over a pile of chanterelle mushrooms. 

“ARE YOU REALLY TOO LAZY TO CUT MUSHROOMS?”

She lets out a shuddering little exhale and puts the wooden handled knife down with a soft clatter.

“Sorry, just...zoned out a little, I think.”

They slink in behind her, chest to her back, hands coming to rest on her hips for a moment. They peer over her shoulder at the board and sigh in a tone that’s clearly staged.

“YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK WE SHOULD DO?”

“What?”

“I THINK WE SHOULD GO OUT TO EAT.”

Walani smiles at that and leans back into their embrace, practically purring at the affection she immediately receives in response.

“Sounds perfect...”

**Author's Note:**

> They’re both just like...so touch starved.


End file.
